


To Everything a Purpose

by Kylenne



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Canon, Comfort/Angst, Friendship, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 02:21:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5230232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kylenne/pseuds/Kylenne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Khedira Lavellan--ex-raider captain, now a Rivaini seer--is a fish out of water in Haven, but she soon discovers she's not the only person who feels out of place, nor is she the only one feeling guilt over past choices. Leliana is also racked with guilt and regret, and the two of them strike up an unlikely friendship over common ground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Everything a Purpose

**Author's Note:**

> My Dragon Age 'verse diverges substantially from canon. For the purposes of this fic: Loghain is the Inquisition's military commander rather than Cullen, and Leliana never became the Left Hand of the Divine, but came instead to help at the behest of King Alistair, her husband.

Khedira descended the steps of the chantry, vigorously rubbing her hands to warm them against the cold, and it seemed to her that she would never be warm again there in the mountains of the south. As she breathed hot air into her hands, she glanced at the large central pavilion in the camp, and noticed Princess Leliana there, sifting through a scattered mess of papers in something of a mild frenzy, before she swept her arm and knocked the lot of them on the ground with a sharp, off-color oath uttered in Orlesian, and buried her face in her hands. Khedira frowned, and averted her eyes at first, feeling awkward and guilty at having intruded somehow on such a private, unguarded moment of frustration.

She still didn't entirely know what to make of the woman, truth be told. Leliana was nothing short of cordial to her--a far sight better than the Chantry folk around Haven, who still viewed the Rivaini seer with a measure of suspicion and fear. Khedira much preferred her company to theirs for that reason, she and her Fereldan compatriot also sent by the King and Queen to aid them. Leliana was the sort of Andrastian who didn't scrunch her nose every time she saw Khedira coming, and, well, Loghain was every bit the "heathen" Khedira was, quietly honoring the old ways of his own people even as he paid lipservice to their distant Maker. Despite the lofty station each enjoyed in Ferelden, both shemlen had treated her with a measure of respect she had not known in foreign lands outside Rivain, where the terms "apostate" and "knife-ear" fell too easily from ignorant lips, and no basra knew a sayyadina's worth, much less that of an elf.

There was a kind of reticence with Leliana that made her feel distant though in spite of her warmth and cordiality, and while she seemed well-matched with Loghain in that regard, it felt different with her to Khedira. Loghain had the brusque demeanor of a man who'd seen too much fighting in his life, far too much war and suffering, and Khedira understood that better than most, though her reasons for understanding such a thing were far different than his.

Leliana, however, was a whole different kettle of fish. Perhaps it was because spies always had an air of aloofness about them by their very nature, by the necessity of the secrets they kept. It was a grave power they held after all, perhaps even as much as a sayyadina, that ability to start and end wars with a single word spoken to the right person. They wove truth within lies like the carpet makers threading silk upon silk in the markets of Ayesleigh. It was natural that a bard would keep a certain amount of distance even from allies. But Khedira suspected the truth was a bit more complex.

She wanted to know, and understand Leliana a bit better. If they were truly going to work together to seal this Breach, if they were going to have to rely on her to gather information--and if she were going to be a guide through the foreign world of southern intrigue for a Rivaini woman who'd scarce seen the far side of the Waking Sea, even during her sordid past as a raider captain--Khedira wanted to know her better. And if there was turmoil within her, as Khedira suspected, she wanted to do what she could to help. Khedira was still a sayyadina, after all, despite the searing emerald brand on her hand which marked her as somewhat else.

Khedira took a breath and approached the entrance to Leliana's pavilion; the bard was sitting then, elbows propped on her knees, with her head bowed over some missive or another.

"Good morning, Princess," Khedira greeted her, with a polite incline of her head. "Mind if I join you for a bit?"

"Good morning, Seeress. Of course, it's no trouble," Leliana replied. When she looked up to greet Khedira, there were dark shadows under her eyes, her lips pursed somewhat grimly. Though her tone was as cordial as ever, she was wary.

Khedira bent down, rather casually retrieving some of the papers on the ground, and offered them to Leliana. "There's a great deal to sift through, isn't there?" she asked.

Leliana reached over to take them from her, and nodded by way of thanks. But she went through them almost absently, her eyes scarcely taking note of the words on the parchment before placing them in a careless pile on the table before her. "Always, in this line of work. But more, when I do not even know where to begin my inquiry. The Divine had a great many enemies, even among those who called themselves her friends," Leliana said. "It is why I believed you, Seeress, when you pled your innocence in the matter. An apostate Rivaini agent seeking vengeance for Dairsmuid would be the simple answer. And I speak from the bitterest experience when I say that the truth in these kinds of matters is never that simple." She lowered her eyes then, and raised a hand to her temple, sighing to herself as though Khedira were not even present.

"You feel guilty," Khedira said softly, perhaps stating the obvious, but sometimes the obvious needed to be stated. A boil needed lancing before it could heal, Mama Sey always said.

"Yes," Leliana admitted. "Of course I do. Perhaps if I'd been there--"

"If you'd been there, you would have died too," Khedira said.

"For pity's sake, don't you think I know that?" Leliana snapped, jumping to her feet. "Everyone keeps telling me that. But even though they might be right, it doesn't change anything. It doesn't change how I feel or ease the pain in my heart. Perhaps if I'd gone to her, served her as she asked, I might have used my skills to prevent the attack in the first place. I might have seen it coming and protected her. That is what keeps me awake at night, Khedira, not what I may or may not have done at the Conclave itself. If I had only done as she wished, perhaps there may not have even been need for a Conclave at all."

Khedira frowned. "I'm sure you had your reasons."

"I agonized over the decision, when she offered it to me," Leliana sighed. "For weeks, even months. I was so torn. I tried to consider what would be best, how my skills might best be used for the greater good. I prayed that the Maker would show me the right path, as he did during the Blight, when I met a pair of Grey Wardens and my life was forever changed. In the end I chose to serve Ferelden and my beloved, and not the Chantry. Perhaps...in the end, it was pure selfishness. I was newly married and did not want to leave my family. Alistair needed me as much as Justinia did, if not more." She paused, biting her lower lip against the tears forming in her weary eyes. "I didn't want to leave him to deal with the likes of his odious chancellor whispering poison in his ears, seeking to manipulate him for his own ends as he did at the Landsmeet, when he became king. I wanted so badly to protect him. I had faith in him, but he was so untried against such intrigues, I feared for him so. I feared I would return from Justinia's side to lay another dead Theirin king to rest, and one that I love with all my heart."

"Leliana--"

Her voice became broken then, and she rang her hands, pacing about the pavilion. "What if all these lofty ideals and principles are simply excuses I've clung to in order to soothe my guilt because I know deep down that I was wrong? What if Justinia paid the price for it? I was so afraid of losing myself, of becoming the woman I was long ago before I met her--Maker help me but when she asked me to be her Left Hand I heard echoes of my old mistress, the one who betrayed me and left me to die when I was a bard. The very fiend she'd saved me from. I was so afraid, of myself, of what she might ask me to do. I had no faith in her, not like she had in me even when I was so unworthy of it. And I had every reason to trust her! She trusted me when I could not even trust myself, and this is how I repaid her. I loved her, and I abandoned her for worldly power, out of fear and faithlessness, and now I have lost her, and I only have myself to blame."

"And what if you had done as she asked, and your beloved king fell prey to his enemies, without you to protect him?" Khedira countered, shaking her head sadly. "'What If' is a game no one can win, Leliana. The deck is stacked too much against us, and the gods hold marked cards. Please don't do this to yourself. You couldn't have known what would happen. Not even a sayyadina could have foreseen this, and you have no way of knowing whether or not you could have made a difference to prevent it, even if you had been her Left Hand. Such things are never given to mortals to know. You'll drive yourself mad thinking this way."

"I keep telling myself that things happen for a reason, even if it's one I can't see. But what reason is there in the loss of the first Divine in a generation to truly seek change and make things better for the least among the faithful? Why would the Maker take her to his side when the world so needs her?" Leliana demanded, as the tears streamed down her cheeks. "These things I cannot answer, I cannot see the logic in it, and it wounds me so to have nothing where once there was unshakeable faith. It tastes so bitter."

Khedira gently took Leliana's hands into her own, and grasped them firmly. "I know even less of your Maker than I do of his priests or his chantry. But what I do know as a sayyadina, and someone who once lost everything to her own folly, is that sometimes there is a greater purpose in tragedy. I know the gods are cruel, no matter how we call them, and they ask much of us--sometimes too much. I know it sounds terrible, and cold comfort when you're in pain and need answers. But finding the greater purpose is what keeps me going," she said.

"Is that truly what you believe, Seeress?" Leliana asked.

Khedira shrugged, and smiled a bit enigmatically. "I believe I find strength in believing in that greater purpose, whether it is true or not. There are rhythms to life, patterns we may not be able to perceive sometimes with our limited mortal understanding, but they are there, and we're moved to them by Spirit. I couldn't have known as a brash young raider that I would one day become a sayyadina, serving others instead of using and hurting them. I won't say the loss of my crew was 'worth it', I can't put a price on any of them, and I still feel that loss every day. But the idea that perhaps their loss served a greater purpose is sometimes the only thing that keeps me from falling apart, even after all these long years. There's no shame in clinging to that, even if you can't see what that purpose is. We all do what we can to get through the night."

"Sometimes it's so hard to believe that you were once a vicious raider," Leliana replied, with a faint smile. Khedira returned it, squeezing her hands tightly within her own, in a gesture of comfort, and perhaps even solidarity.

"You don't know me so well yet," Khedira quipped, her smile turning sardonic as she released Leliana from her grip. "But regardless, the important thing is that you're here now, and you're doing what you can to help. It's what I tell myself, when the old guilt starts gnawing at me."

Leliana nodded at her, her eyes pensive. "There is a great deal of wisdom in what you say, Seeress," she said. "I will consider it. Thank you for listening."

Khedira bowed to her in the old Rivaini manner, with her palms pressed together before her chest, and took her leave of the pavilion. As she walked through the makeshift camp, seeking out her meager quarters, the stares of basrani followed her, along with the now familiar whispers and judgments. She left them all too gladly behind when she reached her small room at the base of the hill, and unrolled the small carpet in the corner, sitting cross-legged upon it to contemplate all of this and what it meant.

Perhaps she wasn't so different from the Princess as she may have believed; the same priests who glared at her, making superstitious gestures as she passed, spoke ill of Leliana too, naming her a recreant heretic. Cassandra discouraged such talk, as much as she discouraged the ill treatment Khedira received, but still it was talked, if in whispers. They said Princess Leliana, once a lay sister of the Chantry, now spy for and consort to a King and Queen, swore she heard the voice of the god her people claimed had turned his back on them. And no one could turn her aside from such beliefs, not even the Divine she so loved; Leliana had chosen to forge her own path in a world that frequently did not understand it. That was something Khedira could respect, and admire.

For was that not what Spirit called her to do, what seemed like another lifetime ago? It would have been a far simpler thing to remain in Rivain, even where once she had been feared, than follow the call of Spirit elsewhere, to basrani lands where no one believed as her people did, where her name was not "sayyadina", but "apostate", and "knife-ear". It would have been far more comfortable to remain in a tiny island village, among people who welcomed her with open arms and took her as their own, than walk roads filled with strife, offering aid to those who spurned it in the person of a heathen elf, and spat curses upon the Dark Lady she loved.

But Khedira would not have become the seeress she became without such challenges. She would not have become the woman the Matriarchs believed could stand for them at the Conclave, to demand justice for Dairsmuid. In this, even her sordid past as a raider held a purpose: it was as much Captain Blackfang they required as Sayyadina Khedira, with her well-honed knowledge of basrani and her fearsome reputation abroad. And if the Matriarchs had not sent her there to that ill-fated Conclave, Khedira would not have gained the emerald brand that may well prove to be the salvation of all.

To everything, there was a purpose. Khedira hoped that in time, Leliana might find her own purpose once more, and find the strength in it, as Khedira did in hers.


End file.
